Who We Are
by for you to notice
Summary: Some things will never change even after all they've gone through. BL oneshot


_So I thought I was done with One Tree Hill. I still read stories from the people I love, but I'm not inspired to write. I didn't love the premiere, but it interested me. I like the premise, mostly because it's different. But I hate certain aspects of it for obvious reasons. This is brief, but it's as much for me as it is to describe Brooke's transformation. And who knows? Maybe there will be more._

It struck her at the weirdest times.

They were so old, and they were so different, and they'd actually managed to live apart for so long. And now, now things had changed, but a little had stayed frustratingly similar.

Brooke was the strong one. She worked hard to keep her composure and be the woman he had seen in her so long ago.

But sometimes, she'd remember. Sometimes he'd send her a crooked grin or squeeze her wrist and she'd be seventeen again.

She never felt older than when she was with that precious, little boy in the red cape. She'd always pictured herself as the girl who everyone knew would be the worst mother. She couldn't take care of herself or keep her own emotions in check, so there was no way that she could be responsible for someone else. He had always been the opposite. The father of all of them, really, with his serious orations and gentle PG demeanor.

Together, it was easier than she ever could have imagined.

He always had his hands on Jamie, throwing him over his shoulder or shooting him around the room with the younger one's arms extended. Both of their mouths would be wide open in unaffected joy, both of them living childhoods that they deserved. She always watched. She saw the veins in his arms pulse as he dipped down to let Jamie's fingers trail in the water. She remembered when she would pout in front of him, and he'd laugh and scoop her up in those strong arms, tossing her with ease onto his mother's couch so his fingers could trail up from underneath her knees to the insides of her thighs.

She felt a little inappropriate when they came over to her, Jamie cackling about how high his uncle and taken him. She blushed and excused herself.

When Jamie fell asleep at Skills's apartment, and they just waited on either side of him for him to wake up so they could take him back to Haley. He'd make faces at her and mouth light hearted jokes, and she wouldn't be allowed to say a word in case the boy in between them would be startled by the noise. They tried to get each other to crack and make a noise, and she'd think of when they used to eat dinner at his mother's house and their hands would be on each others' thighs. Whoever had to excuse him or herself first would lose; except then, the other one had to leave the table too and they'd both win.

When she talked to Peyton, she noticed the lack of development in the other girl. Peyton would talk about how there was all this unfinished business, and she'd silently agree. That she should still be hating Peyton, and they should still be competing, because there really wasn't a winner yet. That Peyton was foolish when she thought they were some kind of star crossed lovers who belonged with each other in the end. She'd smile, though, because she was mature now. She wasn't going to get in fistfights, and she didn't even want to. She wanted mature relationships, and that meant covering your immature thoughts with wise words.

But sometimes he'd come back from a run and she'd be in his kitchen with the new girl, learning how to not burn eggs. He'd wipe his top lip with the back of his hand before he kissed Lindsey and rub his hand on the side of his sweatpants before clapping his hand on Brooke's shoulder. She could picture when he used to hold her tight against him with sweat dripping down his chest as she squealed and slapped her palm against him, calling him gross. He'd laugh and say something grosser, nuzzling into her neck until she groaned, finally pushing him off of her. She'd say something about him needing to shower, and he'd take it as an invitation to pull her in after him.

Then there were the times they all got together, get dressed up and go out somewhere for which they were slightly overdressed. They laughed about the old days, about the experiences they'd been apart for when their memories had been real. He sat next to her, or Haley, or Mouth, or anyone besides Peyton or the absent Nathan. She felt his arm brush against hers when he reached for his napkin, and he didn't apologize. She smiled to herself and thought about when she'd be settled in his lap as they all watched bad movies, laughing at the dialogue, his throat vibrating against the top of her head. She'd curl her fingers around his side, stroking foreign languages into his skin through his shirt. He'd kiss the top of her head, and she'd feel young.

But now, they'd changed. They had new lives with new people they didn't both know. They were safe around each other, unlike the awkward fumbling he and Peyton went through. The problems they had to deal with, even those involving dealing with the past, didn't have to do with each other for once. They'd found the perfect mix in order to be friends that they had searched for so endlessly when they were too young to know how. But maybe things were kind of the same. While she felt old, he made her feel young. She wanted to dance with him and kiss his clavicle and sling her arms loosely around his neck. Maybe.


End file.
